


Countless Steps

by Jude_ABG



Series: Trinity tales [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Brazil, Childhood Memories, Emirates, Fun, Gotham City - Freeform, Indonesia, M/M, Metropolis (DCU), Mexico, New Zealand, Norway (Country), Returning Home, Romance, Runaway, Rwanda, Smut, Teenage Rebellion, Trauma, World Travel, Young Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude_ABG/pseuds/Jude_ABG
Summary: We all know about the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayneand we all know about the return of Bruce Wayne to Gotham,a man ready to become BatmanBut what happened during all those years of travelling?
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Zatanna Zatara, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne
Series: Trinity tales [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. 8 Years Old - Gotham City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planning Date - Labrinth

The spiral stairs were dangerous. That's what adults always said. Kids couldn't use it, because they could go down too fast or too recklessly, take a false step and end up hurt (or worse). The Manor was so big it had many staircases, so the children didn't really need to use the metal spiral one.

The steps were very cold, even through the soft socks. It was early winter. The small feet didn't cower because of it. Bruce Wayne went down carefully. He was so short the handrail he was holding was taller than him. He walked slowly, feeling each step in the darkness. The big open windows let the moonlight in, the only source of clarity.

Why he chose to go down that way, he couldn't say. After all, he was the kid that had always been afraid of those stairs.

The Manor was also empty. Big, cold and empty. Just a month ago, it had maids, cooks and gardeners all day around. Visitors came all the time. Even at night, workers stayed late finishing up, talking and smoking, before going home. However, no one was there anymore. Now, the sounds echoed in the huge hallways, reverberating through the wood. No adult appeared to scold the boy after he finished coming down the steps.

"...Is that so?! Because I'm starting to think _I'm_ the only one dealing with this situation..."

On the next corridor, the darkness was being broken by a warm light seeping through a door. Bruce continued following the voice. He had heard it faintly while he was walking on the third floor. He couldn't make out the words then.

There was a telephone in the kitchen, but it's cord was so long it was pulled through the corridor, one of it's ends entering the room.

"No! Why would you even consider that?!"  
The 8 year old approached the door. It emanated a comfortable heat. He was so light his steps didn't even make noise.

Alfred was inside. He was in front of the fireplace, talking angrily on the phone. His elbows were on his knees, his shoulders were tense. There was a cigarette in the ashtray, but it was burnt like it hadn't been touched in a while. The butler sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"No, I… Mr. Kane. You're his _grandfather_!"  
Bruce's eyes widened. They were talking about him. He hadn't seen the Kane part of the family since he was 5, when his mother swore she would never visit them again.

Alfred stood in silence for a while, like he was listening to the other side of the line. Suddenly he stood up. He grabbed the cigarette and started pacing in concentration. The 38 year old man took a calming breath.  
"Roderick. The boy is only 8. He just lost his parents. He doesn't need military school. He needs to live with his family. You!"

A cold wave passed through Bruce's body. His tiny hands grabbed the door frame. He couldn't go live with his grandparents. Martha had run from them for a reason. They weren't nice at all. If the boy got sent there, even if the Kanes were his blood relatives, his spirit would be destroyed by their inflexibility. He knew that.

"Sir, you… please, don't hang up!"  
The room was silent for a few seconds. Suddenly, Alfred slammed the phone on a table in anger.

Bruce jumped backwards, startled. He stumbled and hit his back on the wall. A portrait shook on the wall, making a loud noise. The butler heard, looked up and saw the tiny boy in the dark corridor. 

"Oh. Master Bruce, what are you doing here?! It's way past your bedtime!" The man hurried to him, kneeling down. He grabbed the boy's hand, massaging them. "You're completely cold. Let's get you back"  
Alfred lifted the child, adjusted him in his lap and started walking to the third floor. The boy's room was the first door to the left, in front of the main staircase. The one right next to the Master Bedroom. The man rocked the 8 year old a little in a soothing motion.

Bruce felt numb. He had felt numb for months. Every single day the little boy woke up and was led to countless activities. In the first months a lot of familiar and unfamiliar faces came to see him. They hugged, kissed and pressed his arms. They said words he didn't care to pay attention to. After a while, however, the visitors came less and less.

The boy didn't feel anything when he heard the words 'heritage' and 'billions' being whispered in the hallways. When he saw a couple of workers of the Manor pocketing his father's things, he didn't mind Alfred's rage. He didn't feel anything anyways.

Bruce thought he would stay at the Manor. He would love to stay with Alfie, the only person he ever truly trusted besides Thomas and Martha. At that moment, however, hearing the butler talking about sending him to the Kanes…

Alfred put the 8 year old on the bed, but froze when he saw the boy's red face covered with tears. Hiccups shook his body. He looked like he was in pain.

"What's wrong, Master Wayne?" The man asked, cupping Bruce's cheek.  
That seemed to only aggravate the sadness, making him cry harder and louder. The 8 year old turned on his bed, looking away and curling around himself.

Seeing Bruce like that broke Alfred's heart. It was the first time the boy cried ever since the murder. The englishman closed his eyes, willing away his own tears. "Tell me, Bruce" he whispered.

"Why don't you want me?!" Whimpered the 8 year old. Alfred's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Bruce…"  
"I thought you loved me"  
"Oh, my boy" The 38 year old pulled Bruce into a tight hug "Of course I love you"  
"Then why can't I stay with you?!"  
"You need to be with your family"  
"You're my family"  
The butler tried not to feel the pain of that statement. "I mean your blood family"

Bruce started trembling, grabbing Alfred's jacket. "I don't want to"  
"I know you don't, but... it's going to be good for you to be near your relatives. You won't be alone"  
"Alfred…" The boy whined, shaking his head. The butler passed his hands on the small head, inhaling deeper.

"You know what? I think I'm gonna make you some hot chocolate. Would you like that?" The man whispered, shakily. "It will calm you down"  
He got up and left the room. Bruce, from where he laid, saw the man turn around and go down the stairs.

"Alfie" the boy whispered almost without a sound "Please, don't leave me too"

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Countless Steps is a compilation of small stories - all of them connected to a different moment in Bruce's life. The chapters are independent. I just hoped to create small portraits of each year that passed.
> 
> 2020 was very tough for me, in many ways. Like many people, I felt my mental health degrading slowly. And when I'm down, I end up not practicing my hobbies - one of them, writing fanfic. I felt so unmotivated all year long.
> 
> So I made a challenge for myself, and this is the result. When I felt like I could, I would sit down and try to create a new scenario for Young Bruce. For a very long time, I felt I had lost my "sparkle", creating scenes that I thought were very bland. It took a very long time, but it was a nice writing exercise and I think I got over a big part of my block.
> 
> There are chapters I hated, others I really liked. Choosing a song for them also helped to create the mood - even though I usually ignore lyrics and vibe with the instruments only HAHA
> 
> Hope you like it
> 
> PS: I like imagining Bruce Wayne was born either 1950 or 1960.


	2. 14 Years Old - Gotham City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achilles Come Down - Underground Youth

It was 5 AM. Soon the sun would come up bringing the morning cold air. The tall curtains of the office weren't closed. Bruce opened his tired eyes and heard birds singing outside. The light was increasing, making the shelves full of books a lot more visible.

It was time.  
The 14 year old picked the backpack he had left by the armchair. He tested its weight again. It was a little too heavy, but he would get better at carrying it. Bruce passed through the writing desk - Thomas Wayne's old working place. He picked up his handwritten letter and folded it, not bothering with putting it inside an envelope.

The boy looked back one last time. The table, the books, the armchair, the stairs, the papers and pens, everything touched by a blue light. He sighed and left, letting his hands brush the wood of the door frame.

_The previous morning Bruce had received the biggest beating of his life. He was one, they were five. The gothamite didn't stand a chance. Ever since he had been put into Dunkirk Academy, the boarding school, he had been teased, harassed and hurt. However, the boy never said anything to anyone. Alfred couldn't know. His guardian needed to think he was okay. Bruce sure as hell wouldn't let the man see his bruise-covered body._

_The first time he was punched in the face, he went down in a second. It had been the third day of school, at gym class. It was so sudden his ears rang._

_Like everything in life, taking a punch was also a matter of training. The time passed and Bruce learned how to dodge, kick and punch back. He learned not to fall after being hit. He always got his ass handed to him, but he always put up a good fight. It didn't take long until he was training, along with controlling what he ate. The 14 year old was a disciplined one._

Wayne put the letter on the kitchen counter. He arranged it in a way the recently picked purple flowers leaned over it. Something hurt inside the boy's heart. He kissed his fingers and then touched the letter. A lost tear was quickly wiped.

The sun was really rising then. Bruce could see the red glow through the window, hitting softly the garden trees. They had a huge garden, with a huge pool area. Alfred enjoyed taking care of it. Maybe it was therapeutic for him.

_When Bruce got home the day before, limping and hurting all over, that's where the butler was. The garden. The boy had stopped at the kitchen door that led outside, watching him. He shouldn't have been at the Manor, of course. Usually, he only came home on the weekends. However, he had been in so much pain that he didn't go back to class. He didn't want to face his assailants._

_Taking off his dirty uniform jacket, Bruce noticed that in the kitchen counter, next to a still hot coffee, was an opened book. The boy had turned it to see the cover. It was dark red with white letters: "Dealing with a troubled child". Bruce, at that moment, felt that book hurt him even more than punches or kicks. The boy stumbled back, feeling all types of emotions overtaking him._

_He wasn't a good kid anymore. Hadn't been in years, but… was he that bad? He knew Alfred loved him very much. Bruce didn't want to be a burden for the 44 year old. He wanted to get better, he really did. It's just… his mind didn't work the same way as everyone else's. Maybe the 14 year old was a rotten one. That's why no one wanted to be his friend (except Harvey Dent... sometimes...). That's why he was making his guardian's life so difficult._

_When the butler found Bruce inside that day, he hugged him and asked what was wrong (dejavu). The boy shook his head, not knowing what to answer._

The sun was already in the sky when Bruce left through the kitchen door that led to the garden. He had a backpack full of clothes and things. There was food inside a thermic bag, money in his pocket. He wore a black coat bigger than him that would be enough for the air of the morning. The boy didn't look fancy. He could blend in with the crowd.

While walking towards the forest that surrounded Wayne's garden, Bruce tried not to think too much. When he reached the edge of the Manor, the 14 year old turned one last time. The big gothic mansion covered in grapevines looked like a mystical place, like Avalon between the fog. The boy watched the sun reach the second floor windows, lighting up the glass like fire… Then turned his back and entered the woods.


	3. 15 Years Old - Outskirts of Gotham City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laughing on the Outside - Bernadette Carroll

Bruce was quick. Sure, his size helped, considering he wasn't big for a 15 year old, but he had become quite agile and strong in the last few months. He wasn’t the fastest kid around though. Fran could outrun him any day, climbing the empty buildings and jumping on the abandoned cars as if the obstacles were actually shortcuts. She had to teach him a lot more before he could outrun _her_.

The boy climbed a wall with ease, only scratching his knee a little when he landed on the other side. He couldn’t stop though. Bruce already heard Craig and Malcolm jumping over the wall too. They weren’t as agile, but wouldn’t give up pursuing him. The 15 year old would have to be smarter if he wanted to lose the bullies.

When the opening appeared, Bruce slipped through a hole in the metal fence. The boy kept running straight ahead, his feet finally reaching the train tracks. He had to dodge the parked carriages, almost tripping over a few times, but never stopped. Soon he saw what he was looking for.

Craig and Malcolm sped up angrily. If they weren’t fast enough, they wouldn’t reach Bruce before the fast moving train. He only had to jump the tracks before the train passed and the two of them would be left behind stupidly. Meanwhile, Bruce could only run straight forward and look ahead, hoping he wouldn’t be killed by the train. He just had to jump the tracks at the right second.

For a moment Bruce felt the whole world slow down. He couldn’t hear the loud horn, begging him to get out the way. The boy's feet left the ground and Bruce immediately closed his eyes - he didn’t have the nerve to see.

Even as he fell on the hard gravel, the wind of the impossibly fast train messing his hair, Bruce thanked the universe for letting him survive that stupid stunt. If Fran saw him do that, she would beat him up with a stick. The metal wheels were so loud he couldn't hear his bullies' voices threatening his life.

Bruce couldn’t help smiling a little to himself as he laid on the hard floor. It was the first time in his life the boy felt like he wasn’t weak. Just the year before, he was losing fights behind his school. If _that_ Wayne could see how much he would improve in just one year.

The 15 year old couldn't linger, though. He sprinted towards the fence and climbed the first part without barbed wire he could see. Soon he was speeding towards his house, running in the middle of the empty street.

Every street in the Columbus area looked like that. Abandoned, empty, decaying and wild. The perfect image of a forgotten city. Maybe decades ago the neighborhood was filled with life and energy, but something caused the place to become dead very quickly. Then, unexpectedly, kids were the ones who took over. Homeless, abandoned or runaways. Every one of them had a story, but they all belonged to Columbus.

Bruce slowed down and stopped, listening to a ruckus approaching. The sounds echoed, making it difficult to decide where it came from, but it was definitely coming closer. The boy jumped behind a short wall and held his head down, waiting. Soon a speeding car turned the corner and accelerated down the road. The people in the car had guns and really weren't shy about firing it. Bruce was frozen on the floor as bullets flew everywhere, right above his head. Behind the vehicle, a police car followed suit, returning the shots with rifles and revolvers. For a few moments the whole place shook and exploded with bullets.

Only when they turned the corner and disappeared on the next street, sounds of gunshots still echoing in the night, that Wayne felt strong enough to get up. He wasn't wrong: Columbus was taken over by kids - but somehow adults always brought their troubles to the area.

"Fran, I brought the batteries" Bruce said, jumping through his house's window. He opened a secret zipper inside his coat and removed three AA batteries, letting them fall on a pillow on the ground. Fran and him had taken over this place, which wasn't bad for an abandoned building "Also, we better avoid the tracks for a while"

The house was lit, there was food cooking in the improvised stove and the radio on the floor played music, but Bruce didn't hear any answer. Was the girl outside, maybe? The boy stopped and waited for any sign of life, but heard nothing.

Huh, weird.  
Mindlessly, Bruce sat down and turned the radio off, preparing to lie down and rest his legs. Only then, he heard. The low gurgling sound coming from the other room. Choking. _Fran_ choking.

Bruce's body moved before he could think. In a second, he was already in the bedroom, grabbing the door frame. What he didn't expect to see, however, was the huge puddle of blood reaching his feet.

Fran was on the floor, clutching her neck in despair. Her limbs were shaking with the effort, but she wasn't letting go of the bloody wound there. Bruce felt his body hurt, his mind break, creating a macabre link with the last time he saw so much blood. Though this time there were no brains splattered on the pavement

The boy blinked, and Fran was suddenly in his arms. He didn't remember how, but he was already running outside, carrying the girl like she was weightless.

The gunshots. The criminals and the police firing away... It was a gunshot - a stray bullet that had found Fran in her own home.

"You need a hospital" Bruce whispered, but not even him knew how to get her there. She was bleeding a lot, too quickly - and he couldn't exactly grab a taxi in Columbus. He had to trust his own legs and pray to whomever, begging to let Fran live.

A sudden realization came to Bruce, feeling his arms shake. He couldn't look down and see Fran's desperate wide eyes on him. He had to keep going.  
So keep going he did. Through the streets, the tracks, under the highway and through a dark tunnel. He ran so much with Fran on his arms, he could feel her blood on his pants. He ran so much he reached the limits of Columbus and entered society again. He ignored the cars and adults in the street, heading to the right place. He ignored the fear that she was already dead, but couldn't look down.

The police officer who was assigned to the table right in front of the door dropped his pencil when he saw the 15 year old covered in blood, holding a pale limp girl, entering the police station.

"Help her" Bruce shouted, falling on his knees "Help her!"

Civilians stared at the scene with shock, frozen where they were, but police officers were already running towards him. Bruce didn't have any options, the police station was the closest place. She wouldn't survive the way to the hospital. However, in his despair, Wayne knew of someone who could help. The boy could only think of one person.

Wayne pressed his eyes closed, filled his lungs and screamed as loud as he could manage:  
"DETECTIVE GORDON"

The whole station, startled, froze for a second. They looked at the boy like he was insane. Quickly, however, a hand started pulling Bruce away from the girl. A blonde officer took her from his arms, placing on his own lap. The boy fought to reach her, but he was too small.

Only when he saw Fran turn slowly and dazedly look at his face that he felt all the fight leave his body. Behind her, running through a door, was Detective Gordon, seeing the scene with wide eyes.

There was nothing Bruce could do anymore. He just watched from the floor as Fran was taken inside the place and the closest medical professional was called. Gordon had heard him and taken over, orienting the rookie officers. The boy was left at the entrance, with two officers holding his shoulders. They were trying to get answers from him, but Bruce wouldn’t open his mouth.

In his exhausted state, overwhelmed by the noises, Wayne looked to the side, avoiding the worried gazes he was getting from everyone. However, over there, right in the middle of the Missing Persons board, was his own face on a poster. Blue eyes, dark hair, juvenile serious face. He couldn't stay in that place.

The poor officer wasn't expecting to look down and see that the boy he had been holding had disappeared without a sign. He lost his balance a little while looking around in surprise. The second one seemed to realize then. He ran to the entrance of the police station and searched in the street, but there was no one to be seen.

The 15 year old ran down the alley, splashing water puddles with his old sneakers. He should be more silent, but he couldn’t hold the loud sobs that escaped his mouth. 'Fran will never forgive me for it' Bruce thought, feeling the blood all over himself. Once they found out she had no parents, the girl would be put into the system - Short term establishments, foster homes, orphanages maybe - that was the definition of hell for a Columbus kid. But he wished the girl would survive so she could be angry at him.


	4. 16 Years Old - Mexico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ana Tijoux - 1977

By 10pm the show was over, and by 1am the circus tent was already empty. Except, of course, for some crew members preparing for the next presentation. Behind the tent was a different story.

The crew's trailer park was very much alive with music, voices and laughter. Apparently it was normal when reaching a new city - the place wouldn't calm down until 4am. 

The 16 year old couldn't leave through the trailer's front door so through the window it was. First the boots were thrown out, then the two feet landed on the ground very silently. Putting the boots on while hiding from passing adults was difficult enough. Running to the edge of the camp at the same time made the scene quite ridiculous. But the kid made it.

The road was just down the hill. It was easy, just running straight ahead and…  
"Where are you going?"  
"Gaah!" Zatanna screamed, jumping in the air "What are you doing here?!"

Sitting on top of a low tree, Bruce watched Zatanna with an amused expression. The boy wore a black tank top, old sweatpants and no shoes. He seemed to be just… hanging out on that branch. Like a normal person.

"Were you trying to be sneaky just now?" He asked, hiding his smile.  
"You didn't answer my question" The girl put her hands on her hips, trying to pass an air of authority even though she had almost pissed herself a few seconds before.  
"Your father taught me how to escape handcuffs. I was practicing"  
"How is it going for you?"

Bruce raised his left leg and Zatanna saw a handcuff around his ankle, stuck so tight his foot was a little red. The girl couldn't help but laugh at that.

"You make it seem so easy" Bruce sighed, lowering his leg again.  
"Why don't you just take it off with the key?"  
"Lost the key"  
"Oh, Bruce" Zatanna laughed again, approaching the tree. From the top of that hill you could see the lights of Mexico City shining for miles. It was actually very beautiful.

"Every once in a while my father performs in Mexico City. I have some friends I want to see, but he can't know I'm going out so late" The girl explained, leaning on the tree and observing the night sky.  
"Huh… I don't think I've ever sneaked out to see people before"  
"Of course not. You're a weirdo with no friends"   
"Hey, I have friends…" Wayne said, jumping from the branch and landing on the wet grass. Zatanna rolled her eyes. She suspected Bruce didn't know people his own age, beside herself.

"Were you gonna walk to town?!" Bruce asked, observing the small road at the end of the hill, which led to the city. It wasn't a short walk, though.  
"I was going to hichhike"  
"What?" Wayne turned to the girl with a furrowed brow "Don't do that, that's dangerous!"  
"What are you talking about? You hichhike everywhere, all the time" Zatanna said.  
"Never do what I do. I'm not a good reference"

That didn't seem to convince, though. The girl let loose her long black hair, and prepared herself for the long route. Seeing the 16 year old's resolve, Bruce sighed in defeat.  
"Hey… if you take this thing off my ankle, I'll drive you there"

Zatanna's eyes widened at the proposal.  
"Do you know how to drive?"  
"Eh… sure"  
"All right, deal"

Bruce sighed and raised his left foot, which was starting to go numb. "We're gonna get in trouble"  
"Yeah, well… nothing really new for us"

*


	5. 17 Years Old - Brasil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guilt - Maedasalt

Bruce almost dropped a scalpel.  
Somehow he was quick enough to grab it before it fell on the ground, but the 17 year old was still slapped in the head because of his clumsiness. Wayne turned to the Head Doctor, but saw in his eyes the same exhaustion every medic was feeling.

Soldiers kept coming. Many of them needed amputation or surgery, and the team was understaffed. Bruce hadn't slept properly in five days. Even though the boy couldn't keep his eyes focused, his hands moved on their own. Stitching up, bandaging, applying anesthesia like he was a factory worker.

In the blink of an eye, there was another soldier in front of him, unbandaged, deep leg wound still untouched. Bruce hadn’t realized the moment his previous patient was gone. So he started the process once again: cutting, removing what needed to be removed, applying what needed to be applied, suture and signing forms. The boy wondered when he had become so desensitized to the gory suffering. Gun wound, bomb mangling, suicide, shrapnel mutilation. Were all war doctors so numb or was that just the lack of sleep?

The first time Bruce broke his arm, Thomas Wayne was the one who took care of him. The man had grabbed his 6 year old son, carried him inside the Manor and sat him down on the office table. Even though his father really was a doctor, Bruce thought having his arm taken care of was very surreal. It kinda felt like it was a game him and Thomas were playing. The second time Wayne broke the same arm, however, he didn’t have his father anymore. He had fallen off the roof, much to Alfred’s despair. As he laid on the ground, breathing heavily, the 9 year old remembered his dad would never take care of him again. This knowledge itself was enough to make him sick. However, not even one hour later, dr. Leslie Thompkins was there for him, caring for his injury, giving the boy as much reassurance, as much trust as his father had. None of them had looked so numb though. Both of them had a beautiful glow in their eyes, the boy never managed to mimic. 

Bruce came back to reality as if he had been hit with a brick.  
Two strong arms had wrapped around his midsection. The person pulled Wayne backwards with a jerk, making him gasp as the air was pressed out of him ungraciously. The 17 year old started to fight off the grip with his nails and elbows, but that only contributed to more hands holding his shoulders, wrists, hands, legs. If only he could see things properly, put a face to his attackers, but his sight was blurry with exhaustion. Bruce’s head hurt, but not as much as a sharp pain on his left arm, that made his fingers feel big and clumsy.

The boy looked down, only to see himself covered in bright red blood, fresh and warm. It was so much, even his holder’s shaky arms were soaked with it and every gloved hand holding Bruce in place was being stained.  
The whole world went quiet for a second. The first thought that went through his head was "Did… did I kill someone? Is someone dead because of me…? Fuck, I didn’t… did I?"

The thoughts didn’t last long though. They died when the Head Doctor grabbed the boy’s left forearm tightly. It wasn’t abrupt, but it caused a wave of pain so strong, Bruce felt his head spin.

From the back of the boy’s left thumb, til’ the curve of his elbow, there was a huge cut. It was deep, swollen, but looked so well slit, it was surgical. Just like the lacerations Bruce would search shrapnel in, every single day. However, seeing it in his own forearm, pulsing with a purple color, made the boy feel like he would faint.   
The disgusting yellow gel the medical staff used on incisions had been applied. It was smeared all over. And there, just at the start of the injury, Bruce could see a line of precise sutures. Someone had started fixing the mess for him, stitching up as much as they could of the nasty wound.

Bruce looked up, eyes wide. He wanted to see in his boss’s face the same shock he was feeling, but the HD wasn’t even paying attention to his distress. And he really wouldn’t. The man was an experienced medic, he had seen a lot worse. However, the boy felt like he would slip out of consciousness if he didn’t have something to hold onto.   
“I don’t know how you did this, Bruce” The man said, closing his eyes in frustration.  
“What…?”  
“You could’ve died…”  
“I didn’t do it”

The HD looked at the boy with heavy exhaustion.  
He stared at Bruce in silence, holding back his sadness. Then, the man sighed, hanging his head.  
“Come on, let me help you” He whispered after a long pause, reaching a second hand to Bruce.

Wayne was pulled to his feet in a clumsy way. He felt someone leading him forward, probably towards the stretchers, but he couldn’t see anymore. The awful migraine was taking over the boy, making his eyes burn and his legs weaken.  
It was fine, though. He just... needed to rest a little and then he could focus on fixing his arm. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad if he closed his eyes for 5 minutes.

*


	6. 18 Years Old - Rwanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powerman - The Kinks  
> or  
> Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

“ _You’re butchering the poor nurse’s job_ ”  
“ _The ‘poor nurse’ wrapped it too tight! Does she think something’s gonna fall through my eyehole?_ ”  
“Ew”

Bruce stopped Dom’s arm before he could ruin the clean bandage. The one eyed man discovered that trying to fix his own head was difficult enough with his rough hands. Dom tensed up a little at the touch, but let the gothamite take the piece of fabric from his fingers.

“ _Let me do it, my hands are clean_ ” Bruce said calmly, sitting on the bed next to the soldier.

He managed to find a gauze sponge inside the hospital room’s table and protected Dom’s injury before wrapping the bandage over it. The 18 year old had gotten so used to bandaging people’s heads, he didn’t even realize when his mind drifted - When he started paying attention to Dom’s sleepy brown eye and tense jaw. When he started searching for the small scar on the soldier’s lip. He didn’t even realize when he was done wrapping and Dom was practically sleeping while sitting up.

“ _Here… You can lie down now_ ” he whispered, pushing Dom’s shoulder softly.

The sound of Wayne's soft voice made the 20 year old rouse a little. He smiled drowsily, pressed Bruce's hand as a thanks and lied on the uncomfortable bed as if it was made of clouds. After a few seconds, he was already snoring lightly. Just watching his roommate sleep made Wayne yawn.

The 18 year old didn't have the habit of being honest to himself about exhaustion, but… he was in a hospital for rest after all. After being kicked from a tall tree by his master and landing on his bones, maybe he needed a little more time. Avoiding hurting his broken ribs even more, Bruce got up slowly and laid down on his own bed. His roommate was right: The mattress was thin and lumpy, but at that moment, it really felt like heaven.

*

“Bruce… _Wake up, B_!”

It was like electricity ran through Wayne’s body. He tensed and tried to get up in a jump, however something very heavy was pinning him to the bed. Thousands of things ran through his brain. The next impulse was to kick whoever it was to the ground, but he stopped. Kigali, hospital, broken ribs, roommate - not in danger.

“Dom…?” Bruce whispered, eyes adjusting to the darkness.  
“ _You were talking in your sleep, B_ ” The rwandan whispered close to his ear “ _Shouting... You do this every night_ ” Bruce never remembered his dreams, but knew that they weren’t good from the way his jaw hurt every morning after waking up.

“... _Why are you on top of me_?”  
“ _Last time I tried to wake you up, you punched me in the eyehole. The night before, it was my throat_ ”  
“ _I’m... sorry. I don’t remember that_ ” Bruce wasn’t used to being pinned though. The 18 year old tested how much he could move, but his arms and legs were being skillfully held down. He could get away from that hold, but… that would mean sliding his crotch against Dom’s - and he tried to ignore what that idea caused on him.

“ _It’s okay_ ” Dom said, getting off his roommate and sitting on his heels “ _You never seem to rest properly, do you?_ ”  
“ _I taught myself not to sleep. That’s something very difficult to unlearn_ ” Bruce said sitting up. He touched the bandages covering the rwandan’s wound, wondering if it hurt too much. It probably did, his punches hurt like hell.

Slowly he got close, curious if the man would stop his movement if he felt uncomfortable. They could barely see each other, after all. Wayne leaned and softly kissed the bridge of Dom’s nose. That did cause the soldier to startle a little. Then, even slower than before, the 18 year old leaned, hesitated, leaned even more and kissed Dom’s throat. He wished the soldier got his apology.

He received no reaction this time. Dom didn’t say anything either, allowing the room to become very silent. They stood still in that position, sitting on that silly mattress. After a few long seconds, one of the soldier’s hands found Bruce’s neck. Wayne’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but he knew Dom could see his face. Feel the way his skin felt electric under that touch, hear the way he breathed…

The next second Dom’s mouth was pushing against Bruce’s, eager and deep. The rwandan didn’t even have time to think on what he was doing, he had wanted to kiss that mouth for so long. Part of him expected rejection, but a warm wave took over the man when Bruce’s soft lips responded as anxiously as his. Soon they were lying down, making out like teenagers.

Dom’s hands were pressing Wayne’s neck, groping his arms, sliding down his abs. The gothamite grabbed the soldier’s back as if the man would run away. But their bodies were flushed together, practically tied. It took Wayne a while to realize he could feel Dom’s hand resting on his upper thigh, rubbing nice circles next to his crotch. He would melt that very second if he could. He really wished no one walked in.

Bruce pulled his roommate close enough to whisper in his ear.  
“ _Dom, I want more_ ” He said. With the soft moonlight that entered through the closed window, he could see the rwandan’s eye stare at him in thought. They probably shouldn’t go far, not in that place. They were two men, and...

The next second, fingers were already working Bruce’s pants, undoing the messy knot that held it on his waist. The soldier’s hands were fast and clumsy, eager to take whatever he could. Finally, he pulled the fabric down without any shame and threw it on the floor, leaving the gothamite naked from the waist down. Wayne felt a shiver go through his body. He was open and exposed, his cock hard even though it wasn’t even touched.

The soldier looked hungrier after seeing the scene. He pulled down his own pants to the knees, leaning forward and flushing their hips together whilst attacking Wayne’s neck. Bruce wasn’t ready for the feeling of their cocks rubbing. He held his own mouth, muffling the moan that escaped him. The hospital was ridiculously quiet and it wasn’t the place to moan like that. Dom pulled Bruce’s legs up a little, exposing his ass. However, all he did was rub himself on the gothamite’s dick, causing a delicious friction that was making his toes curl.

Bruce was breathing heavily on the rwandan's shoulder, surprised at how his night was turning out. When Dom’s hand wrapped around both of them, jerking the two cocks firmly, Wayne started to shake. He wished he could see Dom’s face. At least he could hear the heavy pants and feel the soldier’s muscles tense over him. He didn’t expect…

Dom grabbed Bruce’s thighs and pulled them up even more, leaning over the man and tightening the hold. Everytime his hand reached the tip of their dicks, his breathing got heavier. He knew fucking Bruce in the ass would be too much, someone would hear it for sure. But the gothamite’s hole was right there, ready for him. It was driving him insane. Having Bruce under him, shivering and holding back moans, throbbing shaft leaking on his hand. The soldier started pumping faster and faster, feeling Wayne tense.

It was starting to become difficult to be quiet. The bed started creaking a little with the pumps and thrusts, which were getting clumsier. Dom was so close, he was almost there. Bruce lowered his hand and held Dom’s, trying to make the irresistible hold tighter. It felt amazing. It was... They were…

The next thrust, Dom’s body tensed and trembled as he came all over Bruce’s stomach and shirt. He held the frame of the bed, trying to be quiet, but he couldn’t stop his grunts. Wayne’s hand hadn’t stopped, milking Dom until he was over the edge. He himself couldn’t hold anymore. He moaned and the orgasm hit him. His legs tightened around Dom, riding the pleasure and making a mess over himself.

They stood still in that position, listening as their breaths got less erratic and the night was silent again. Bruce sunk into the mattress, smiling and feeling his ribs protest a lot. It had been a while since he felt that way.  
Dom sat on his heels, watching the 18 year old in front of him. The soldier hadn’t actually thought before, but at that moment all he could think was “ _Oh, shit. I guess I’m gay_ ”.

Bruce covered his eyes with his arm, trying to ignore the way his ribs stung now that he had already come. A hand massaged his chest, making him smile.  
“ _Sorry if I hurt you_ ” Dom said softly “ _I did too much_ ”  
“ _I wish you could do more_ ” Bruce said, pulling the rwandan closer. The man laughed and kissed the gothamite, brushing his hair back with a hand.

After a few moments they would have to clean everything and pretend nothing ever happened, but at that moment, they hoped to enjoy a little more of each other.  
“ _Can you teach me to pin someone down like that?_ ”  
“ _Hahah, sure_ ”


	7. 19 Years Old - Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cold Comfort - Oxenfree Soundtrack

Konstantin pressed his pocket again without noticing. His fingers felt the cigarettes and the lighter over the fabric. It was a mindless gesture the man had picked up over the years, since he couldn't really smoke inside the tunnels. Instead, the 55 year old grabbed the cleanest cloth he could find and wiped the sweat and coal off his face. The coal mines were particularly hot that time of year and workers would feel sick very easily. He could hear the exhausted grunts of the working miners echoing through the tunnel.

Pyotr approached and sat heavily next to Konstantin. The lamp on his helmet was already turned on, even if the part of the tunnel they were in was well illuminated.

" _I thought I wouldn't see you today, Kosta_ " Pyotr said, looking at the end of the tunnel.  
" _Decided to come one last day. Say goodbye to the dark hole_ " To be emphatic, the man slapped one of the wood columns that kept the place safe.  
" _Well, we don't want you here. You need to take care of your lungs. Do the safety check with me and go home... And only come back tomorrow for your retirement party_ " said Pyotr, who had always been a good friend, even if a little rough.

" _Fine… I'll get out of here. But first we'll be taking down the new guy too_ " whispered Konstantin. He pointed his head towards the metal elevator, a few feet away from the two men. Pyotr looked ahead, frowning.

Inside the structure, a tall young man fixed something on the control box. He was a serious guy. The only things left exposed were his hands and his face, and both were completely covered in coal. The dirt only called more attention to his ice blue eyes. He obviously wasn't from around, but why an outsider would want a job in a coal mine was beyond everyone.

" _Great. We're taking the mute_ "  
" _Be nice, Pyotr_ " said Konstantin, smiling. He got up and finished putting on his protective suit.  
" _Seriously. Have you ever heard the kid say a single word?_ "  
" _He works hard and learns fast. That's enough for me. I prefer without the talking_ "  
That moment, the 19 year old whistled, indicating he had finished his job on the elevator. 

The three men started descending then. No one spoke a word. The deeper they got, the higher the temperature. It didn't take long for the three protective suits to become uncomfortable. The only sources of light in that long hole were the small lamps on their helmets. Most newbies would feel claustrophobic, desperate at first, but somehow the young man didn't look at all bothered. He watched the whole system with curiosity in his eyes.

The lower levels of the mine weren't old, but they still hadn't been explored properly. Only the main tunnels had lighting and ventilation, so they still had to check how safe it was to install it in the other corridors.

Pyotr turned down a lever and the floor lit up. The lamps were too new, too clean.  
" _It's just a procedure, kid. I can already tell this place is fine for work_ " said Konstantin, picking up his huge toolbox.

Konstantin, Pyotr and the young man walked down the silent tunnel, unbothered. Soon they started looking at the lights and the tubulation, checking for dangerous smells or big cracks on the walls. It was silent at first, but Pyotr couldn't stay quiet for long. He started joking around, singing songs and teasing Konstantin. The 55 year old watched his friend in amusement.

It was a long tunnel, but it wasn't difficult work to do. After a while they had done enough.  
" _Alright, we're finished here. Ready to go up, kid? ...kid?_ "

The older men turned around and found themselves alone. They hadn't even noticed when the newbie had disappeared.

" _Kid?_ " Shouted Konstantin, walking quickly through the corridor in confusion. " _Kid! Where are y…_ "  
The man stopped.

Just ahead of him, the 19 year old stared into another tunnel. He watched it, frozen in place, eyes wide open. This one didn't have lamps yet, so the darkness inside it was overwhelming. Even the helmet lights weren't very effective there.

" _What's wrong?_ " Whispered Konstantin. He touched the young man's shoulder, trying to shake him out of his stupor, but that didn't help. He kept still, blinking at an empty tunnel. Kosta wondered if he should call for Pyotr, but then the 19 year old mumbled something, too low and too confusing for the man to understand " _What? I… I didn't get that_ "

That moment, the young man turned and pinned on him those haunted blue eyes. For a second, Konstantin saw a little boy inside that expression.  
" _...the bats. The bats again_ " whispered the boy, furrowing his brow " _There are always bats…_ "

A cold wave travelled through Konstantin's body, making him shiver. Something about those words was very sinister. However, swallowing his uneasiness, a small smile appeared on the man's dirty face.  
" _There are no bats here, kid. We're too deep inside the ground, there's too much pressure_ " Something on the boy's eyes indicated he didn't believe it " _Trust me. I've worked here since before you were born. The things we see inside the darkness come from our own minds and nothing else_ " said the man. He rested his hand on the young man's strong shoulder and shook him a little. This time, he felt the 19 year old relax under the touch.

" _C'mon. Let's go already_ " said the russian, pulling the kid away. The young man was quite solid, but moved easily when he was led. A few feet away, however, Konstantin looked back at the dark tunnel and, for a second, felt very uncomfortable.

*


	8. 20 Years Old - Emirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only in my Dreams - The Marías

There was a sound of fabric rustling. Then, soft steps near Bruce's head. After so much training, even soft noises woke him up with a startle and made his heart race.

Wayne kept his breathing slow and eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Someone wasn't trying to hide their presence. But again, they didn't need to. If Ra's Al Ghul wanted to get rid of him and sent one of the members of the League of Shadows to do the job, there wasn't a lot Bruce could do about it in the state he was in. He would be killed and his body would be forever forgotten in secret corridors under the desert. The young man just wished that fucking Ghazi wasn't the one to kill him. He hated that guy.

" _I know you're not asleep_ " said the woman in the League's farsi dialect.

Bruce opened his eyes slowly, letting his sight adjust to the light of the candle. He could see the red stone floor and the walls dancing around him, like a feverish dream. When the pain in his temples soothed a little, the 20 year old looked down.

Talia Al Ghul, the daughter of the Demon, was sitting close to his stomach, analyzing the extent of the bruises that had appeared in the last few hours. The young man's heart jumped at the sight of her. Serious brown eyes, short hair, dark skin bathed in the warm light of the candle. He sighed. He was glad she was the one chosen to kill him.

" _I'm not here to kill you, Bruce_ " Talia said in a soothing voice the man didn't know she had.  
Maybe he was more transparent than he thought. Bruce opened his mouth, feeling how dry his throat felt.  
" _Why not?_ " He whispered.  
" _You're my father's favorite student_ "

Maybe he was having a fever dream. Only that explained the presence of Talia in his bedroom. The League's main assassin, the deadly daughter who had never even looked him in the face before.

" _I failed today, Talia_ " he said, turning to the candle again. " _I've seen your father kill for less_ "

_"Don't you dare faint" hissed Ra's Al Ghul, close to Wayne's face._  
_Under the burning desert sun, with snake venom running through his veins, Bruce could see darkness around his vision and fee weakness taking over him. He and the other students had been outside for hours, fighting against the fever, like his teacher had said. But even with so much willpower, the pain was starting to win. "Don't. Be. Weak"_

_Standing far away, next to the League's secret entrance, Talia observed Bruce and her father. She had gone through the same training, even younger than he was. That moment she was seeing him fail, and that only made the young man more eager to succeed. However, it was getting more and more impossible. The world was closing in too fast. The light of the sun was fading and..._

_When he came to his senses, Bruce was lying on the sand, shaking. He had fainted. Standing close by, Ra's observed him with disgust on his face. The teacher then turned his back and left._

Talia's hands hovered over the cuts on his stomach and chest. Most of them were already healed, but the deadly venom of the snake seemed to have made them sensitive and swollen again.

The woman leaned forward, close to his ear.  
" _No one passes the Viper test, Bruce. Not even me_ " Wayne's eyes widened.

It had been months since he started his training with Ra's Al Ghul and the League of Shadows. Bruce was a dedicated student, disciplined. He saw himself become a weapon more and more each day that passed. That kind of progress made a person forget that they weren't invincible, that some things weren't possible, even with so much training. How foolish of him to believe he could handle the desert sun with snake venom in his body.

A finger brushed a particularly nasty gash on the young man's side, making him flinch and grab Talia's wrist. For a second, she didn't move, using the opportunity to observe Wayne's sweaty face. Even in a feverish state, the gothamite's ice blue eyes were always prepared, though a little unfocused.

" _Drink this_ " She said softly, making Bruce loosen the grip on her arm. He hadn't noticed the small bottle in her left hand. It was filled with a shiny green liquid which seemed to move by itself.  
" _What's that?_ "  
" _Do you trust me?_ "

That was a weird question to answer. They never even spoke to each other before, but somehow…  
Bruce grabbed the bottle hesitantly. Then, opened the cap and, after breathing deeply, swallowed the liquid. He kept staring at her, expecting some weird twist to happen.

The liquid wasn't bad. It didn't taste like anything in particular, but his tongue tingled and his throat went numb. That seemed to satisfy Talia though. She smiled softly, an adorable curl of the lips that the man didn’t know was possible on her. He couldn’t help but smile back.

The woman raised her hand to Wayne's face. This time he didn't flinch at her touch. With a small, calloused hand, she covered his eyes.

" _Relax and sleep, Bruce. You'll feel better tomorrow…_ "

*


	9. 21 Years Old - Norway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Dark Age - MGMT

Something heavy fell on the roof, waking Bruce up. Things had been making noise outside for hours, even since the man found the cabin, but this one was loud enough to be a fallen tree. Wayne sat up on the furry rug and searched around, but the ceiling looked about the same. Old dusty wood, but firm enough to hold a snow storm. Nothing too broken.

The 21 year old laid down on the rug again and closed his eyes. He was already the closest he could be to the fire without actually getting burnt. Maybe Bruce shouldn’t stick his head near such heat considering the fever he had.

He was lucky to find the abandoned cabin in the middle of the storm, while he was knee deep in snow and feeling his whole body get numb. He was lucky, after walking alone for hours in the middle of those tall trees. He shouldn’t push his luck though.

“Take off your shoes, Bruce” The man heard.  
He shrunk a little. He was finally warm enough to sleep, he didn’t want to take his shoes off!  
“Bruce. You know you can’t keep these wet socks any longer”

The voice was right, but it was very difficult to actually get up with that dull pain in his head. The snow that had made his boots so white and frozen had already melted. Bruce untied them and hung his damp socks over the fireplace.  
“Put your feet near the heat now” Ordered the voice.

Wayne turned his rug and lied down once again. Maybe he would be left in peace now. Lying on his back, the man inhaled deeply a few times, eyes pressed shut in pain. There was a weird haze in his mind, a feeling of floating in the ocean. Slowly he opened his lids and admired the starless sky that spread widely over his head.

Outside, the storm seemed to get stronger, making trees shake and the wind howl. Inside the cabin, however, Bruce observed the Gotham night sky. He didn’t know how the wooden boards of the ceiling had suddenly become the grayish, cloudless view he knew so well, but it was there. It looked just like he remembered. When he was small, he would lie down on the Manor’s garden and count the few stars that weren’t hidden by the pollution.

“Little Bruce, you never come home when you need to be home” The man startled when he heard a female voice mutter those words softly. He rolled onto his stomach and looked forward.

For a second he thought he was in Gotham. Now it was very obvious he was not. In front of him was a huge forest, green and fresh, in the peak of spring. In the distance, Bruce could see a woman sitting in some sort of glade. The woman had dark hair and ice blue eyes like his.

“You don’t want to talk anymore. And it’s okay, but why wouldn’t you?” The first voice appeared again. Apparently it wasn’t the woman in the glade speaking. The voice seemed to attract her gaze though, and her eyes locked on Bruce’s. “When was the last time another person heard your voice, Bruce? It’s been almost a year, hasn’t it? You simply stopped talking and no one seemed to notice”

For a moment Wayne sat up and looked at his own feet, which were starting to tingle with the heat. It was just a second, but was time enough to lose the woman. When Bruce turned again, the forest was gone. He was once more in the cold cabin, and his heart hurt with frustration. He shouldn’t have turned.

“I get it. You don’t have to answer me. But I do wonder if vocal cords rot if you don’t use them”  
 _That_ was a very disturbing thought. Bruce involuntarily put his hands on his throat. It was stupid, of course. Your body didn’t rot like that.

“But, I mean… sure one would know if their body was rotting from the inside out, spreading death like cancer”  
Bruce felt his hairs stand up and dry swallowed, pressing his Adam’s apple as if he could feel something beneath the skin.

The 21 year old got up, grabbing the rug from the floor and putting around his shoulders like a blanket. The pain in his head was still very much present, but he chose to ignore it. He walked quickly to the cabin’s small bathroom. Bruce lit up his zippo and put it on the sink, making the warm glow reveal his face in the mirror.

“It’s easy to solve the problem though…” Wayne knew it “You just have to speak… say something out loud”

Easy. He just had to say something. Out loud. Bruce exhaled, watching himself in the mirror anxiously. The man opened his mouth, thinking of all the things he could say. No one was near to listen, so he could vocalize anything he wanted. But after a few seconds, no sound had come out yet. The loud storm was still the only noise in the room.  
Bruce realized that he didn’t have the will to speak anymore. It just… wasn’t there. He had nothing to say.

“Oh, well. There's no other choice, then"  
The 21 year old hadn’t realized his pocket knife was already in his hands. A bunch of stuff that he owned was old and untrustworthy, but the shiny blade he took with him was always sharp.

Without hesitation, Wayne pressed the edge against his throat, thinking about how he could execute his plan. Cutting the skin open was easy, but without the proper tools, he would have to remove his cords with his own hands... Sure, he could do that.  
“You’ve already removed bullets from your body, Bruce. This is easier”

It really was. A thin line of blood slid to the hollow of his throat. He was thinking that maybe a vertical cut would do the trick. But, maybe a big horizontal slash would give him all the space he needed. So the blade was turned to the side, prepared and firm.

"Go on" the voice encouraged "You can do it"

Blade ready and set, Bruce just had to press and slide. But… nothing happened. No movement, just a raised arm and eyes full of expectation. Then, like an electrical shock, the 21 year old threw his knife on the sink as if it had burned him.

What the fuck was he doing? What the hell was wrong with him?  
Bruce grabbed the zippo and left the bathroom in a hurry, leaving the blade at the sink and ignoring the blood on his skin.

The young man opened the cabin’s front door, holding it so the strong wind wouldn't push it wide, and grabbed a handful of snow. He put it in a loose rag he found. Then, he sat down heavily in front of the fireplace, cross legged and curled around himself.

Pressing the snow against his forehead, Bruce felt sick. He promised himself he would stay put in that position until morning came. He lost the luxury of doing things while he had that fever.

*


	10. 22 Years Old - New Zealand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MISSING KITTY - KREAYSHAWN

Bruce just wanted to steal some butter. Just so he could cook an egg to eat. Get in, grab it and leave. Simple. But _that_ was much more fun, to be honest.  
“Hey, guys! Look who’s I just met” The guy named Leo shouted over the loud music. He wrapped an arm around Bruce, pointing to his face “It’s Ava’s brother!”

The group of young adults stopped talking to stare at the stranger.  
“Oh, wow. He looks just like her!” Someone said.  
"How did we not know Ava had a brother? That guy is very difficult to miss” Said a guy in the back, frowning at the gothamite.  
“C’mon, he looks exactly like her, but taller. Are you her twin?” A girl asked, eyeing Bruce up and down.  
“Shit, that must mean it’s his birthday too!” Shouted Leo before the 22 year old could answer.

The whole group erupted in “Congratulations” and “Happy Birthday”s, even calling the attention of other people in the party. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh, as he was patted in the back.

“Where’s Ava, by the way?” Asked another girl, who apparently was called Willow.  
“Passed out on her bed, I guess”  
“Shit, I wanted her to show me her pet snake”   
“Why? You would be scared to hold it!”  
“No, I wouldn’t!”

Bruce could feel the group was going back to their conversation and he didn’t need to be there for it. He gave one last charming smile before slipping away from drunken Leo’s arm.

The party really was full. The apartment wasn’t big in the first place, but probably there were other people crashing it too. The gothamite was lucky that the kitchen wasn’t that crowded. He opened the fridge, only to discover that the owners of the house didn’t lack anything. Bruce only wanted butter, but they had lots of food.

In the end, the 22 year old spent a long time cooking eggs, pasta and chicken while the party happened around him. He could hear the music change every 30 seconds, the loud laughter and, every once in a while, something falling on the ground. It was a very packed apartment after all. People entered the kitchen to grab more drinks and frowned at the weird guy cooking his dinner.

Bruce was already eating on the kitchen table when Willow and another girl found him there. They sat next to him, drinking from plastic cups.

“That’s the guy I told you about” Willow said, laying a hand on his shoulder.  
“I didn’t know Ava had a brother. You look just like your sister, though. Were you homeschooled?” The girl said, looking at his face with interest. Bruce blinked, still eating his dinner.  
“Nah, I think I remember him from school. You did go to BHS, didn’t you?”

Bruce took a sip of his drink and gave an amused smile.  
“See? He was that quiet kid that sat next to the window, and kept throwing pencils outside”  
“Oh yeah!” The other girl said, lifting Wayne’s hair out of his forehead, trying to match his face with her memory.  
“Dude, I _do_ remember you!” Leo shouted, entering the kitchen suddenly and stealing the last piece of chicken. Bruce frowned, he was saving that one. “You got in a fight with… George Wilson? Because he talked about your sister or something. Didn’t you?”  
“George Wilson really was an asshole kid” Willow agreed, raising her glass.  
“George even threw a chair on you. That's how you got this scar in your hand, isn’t it?”

Bruce laughed out loud again. Suddenly his axe training scar had become a high school fight story. Maybe he could come up with excuses for all of his others too.  
“Knew it! You were cool” Leo grinned, satisfied with himself. The three drunks smiled widely, remembering high school, before the amusement gradually died down. Suddenly the kitchen went quiet as everyone stared at the stranger. “Come on, Ava’s brother. Let me introduce you to people around here”

The 22 year old glanced at his empty plate, feeling his stomach full for the first time in some time. Then he glanced at his backpack, left by the side of the entrance door.  
Bruce smirked. He didn’t need to leave so soon.

*

Ava groaned and rolled to her side. Fucking god, was she sick.  
She didn’t regret drinking the day before, she just wished she hadn’t started so early. Ava barely remembered her birthday party. Yay, 24.

She opened her eyes slowly, flinching with the strong morning light. It was a good surprise seeing a water bottle and medicine on her nightstand. It was adorable, whoever left that for her. Ava got up slowly, practically swallowed the pills and downed the water. She couldn’t sleep more, she needed to tidy up her apartment. It was likely her unsupervised friends had messed up the place, leaving bottles on the floor and dirtying all her glasses. Imagine the bathroom.

That’s what Ava was thinking about when she walked into her living room and saw it even cleaner than it was before the party. She frowned in confusion. Her belongings were organized on shelves, every bottle and cup was inside a big trash bag and all the dishes had been washed. What the… had her roommate cleaned the whole place without her? In the middle of the night?

“Hey, birthday girl” Said Ava’s roommate walking in. She looked well rested, but still smelled of cheap vodka.  
“I thought you wanted me to clean the place with you, Harper”

Harper yawned and grabbed the freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen.  
“Oh, wasn’t necessary in the end” She said, filling up a cup.  
“Did you remember to lock the door?” Ava asked, sitting on the table with Harper. It wasn’t the first time the girl had left the door unlocked overnight. Ava eyed the coffee machine. Maybe caffeine wasn’t a good idea, she needed more water.

Harper leaned back, looking at the entrance door.  
“Well, it’s locked. But I went to sleep just after you did”  
“Really? Who locked the door?”  
“Your brother, I guess. He was taking good care of the party though. He even fed your snake for you”

Ava remembered the terrarium in the living room. It was a birthday gift she gave herself. She always wanted a pet snake and that was the first time in her life she could afford to take care of one.  
Harper seemed happy to see the satisfaction on her roommate’s face, and smiled back. Even if the birthday the night before was atypical, it had all worked up. They sat quietly in the kitchen, remembering their night in silence.

“... My what?”

*


	11. 23 Years Old - Indonesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life without buildings - The Leanover

A sloth was crossing the road. The crawl, however, was painfully slow. Bruce took a sip of his bottle and ran to the middle of the highway, scared that the animal would be run over by something. In his state, however, that looked more like a stupid drunken wobble.

It looked ridiculous. Bruce tried to kneel, but almost fell over a couple of times. Finally he managed to pick up the sloth and put it under his arm. He got out of the asphalt quickly, the animal in one hand, alcohol in the other.

There wasn’t actually a reason for such hurry either. Not a single goddamn car or truck had passed in the last 30 minutes. And even if there were, the vehicle probably wouldn’t stop going down the hill, speeding through the long curvy road in the middle of the forest. So, basically, Bruce had put himself in the worst place to hitchhike.

Sure, it’s not like he was late for anything. It had been months since the man had found something new to learn. “I’m a traveller, I seek knowledge, I go after people that can teach me things” - That’s what he had been telling himself for the last 8 years, but… for the first time ever… Bruce was completely lost. There was nothing new to learn.

So the 23 year old had come up with things to learn alone: How to hold your breath for longer than a minute? When is it okay to eat pine bark? What’s the effect of every drug in your body? How to talk about your life without telling absolutely nothing? - So, Wayne managed to teach himself as many abilities as he could invent. But the path to futile knowledge was a weird one. That’s how he ended up at an empty road in Indonesia, trying to find the nearest city before the sun set.

Sloths were absolutely adorable. Bruce raised the animal and put it in a low tree, allowing it to hold the branches with its long nails. Then, the sweet thing turned to the man and gave what looked a lot like a smile. It wasn’t, obviously, but that was enough to melt a very drunk heart.

“You’re cute” The 23 year old whispered, taking one more sip of whatever he was drinking. He tried to pet the sloth, but the animal seemed done with him. It turned away and started climbing up the tree “I’m sorry, I know I stink. I’ve been walking all day”

The man sat heavily on the asphalt, by the side of the road. He was tired, but… he felt fine, all things considered.  
“I like it here, but it doesn’t seem I’ll have a lot to learn though” Bruce said out loud. He knew the sloth was probably over his head, able to listen to his conversation. “Not that it’s important. I don’t think anything else fits inside my brain”

This time, the man dazedly looked up. The sloth hadn’t climbed much higher than the place Bruce had set it. “I think I’ve reached full limit”

The animal reached towards another tree, a little deeper into the thick forest. Bruce hoped he had put it at the right trees, otherwise the sloth would have to cross back the road.  
“No, I don’t think I should go home” He grumbled, closing the bottle finally. He stuffed it into his black backpack. “I’m just overwhelmed... I’ll be fine”

Leaves rustling were the only answer he would receive. Alfred’s face appeared like a glimpse in Bruce’s head, making him quickly close his eyes in frustration. Intrusive thoughts had become much more constant. Gotham… the Manor… Nostalgia had installed itself in his heart, making the 23 year old miss having a place that belonged just to him.

“Alright, I think I have to go now...” The man said, struggling to get up. He swayed a little on his feet, until the weight of the backpack balanced his intoxicated ass. “I’ll just… keep going south, I guess”

A fresh wind passed through Bruce, rustling the trees and announcing the rain that was coming in the late afternoon. The man opened his arms a little, enjoying the smells of the forest.  
He just needed a little more time to get his head in order. Just a little more time.

“Bye, sloth” he whispered, giving his friend one last glance. Bruce adjusted his combat boots and went on his way.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( I gave myself a small artistic liberty in this chapter hehe Can you spot what it is? )


	12. 24 Years Old - Metropolis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and My Husband - Mitski

The woman from the small cafeteria across the street was nice. Clark Kent could see something very familiar about her. She probably was a country gal herself, maybe even from the midwest like him. He suspected it was that sort of simple hospitality of a smile and the offering of a pie. Metropolis was a charismatic city, but he never found people there like the ones back home. For sure they were a lot nicer than the gothamites - just a bay over and somehow different as night and day. Clark didn’t like people from Gotham very much. He guessed no one did.

“You’ve been buying my coffee this whole week and not once you’ve sat down and ate something” the woman said, serving Clark his hot drink and smiling. He scratched the back of his neck feeling a little awkward. The man was not used to people noticing his big silly self.  
“I’ve been afraid to arrive late at work” he laughed.  
“Well, sit down and try this piece of cake. On the house” The woman served him a beautiful chocolate cake with blue frosting. It looked like it was made just for him.

The man’s eyes shone. He already loved this small gift. For a second, however, he stopped and looked at his workplace, on the end of the street. The huge building of the Daily Planet would soon be active with its many workers arriving for their shift. Clark didn’t know why he was so worried though. He was always early after all. Besides, he could celebrate his first week on the job.  
Smiling widely, the boy scout thanked the lady and made a mental note to find a way to retribute that gift.

It was a beautiful morning. It had rained the whole week and finally the day was starting with clear skies and a big warm sun. Kent looked around the coffee shop, which was already full, and chose the seat by the window where he could feel the sun on his face. Maybe his day wouldn’t be so bad.

Clark was so focused on eating his delicious cake that he barely noticed the man on the table close to his. After he saw him, however, he couldn’t help but stare:

The man was in the furthest corner of the store, looking outside the window. He was so still, he looked like a statue, especially because of his pale skin, ice blue eyes and aquiline nose. There was a backpack on the floor, not so big, but definitely old and beat up. However, the weirdest part to Clark, who could hear a bird flying on top of the Daily Planet, was that the man hadn’t been breathing for such a long time his body was probably frozen in place.

He should've probably let go, but curiosity had gotten over Clark. The kryptonian turned and searched for what the stranger was looking for. Following his eyes, he noticed that there wasn’t a single remarkable thing capable of stealing someone’s attention so intensely.

Clark shrugged it off and turned, only to find the stranger’s serious eyes pinned on him instead. It was really weird, like watching a statue move.  
“You’re not from around here, aren’t you?” Clark asked. The man stared at him in silence and Kent wondered if he would be ignored.  
“Gotham” the stranger answered simply, taking a sip of his own forgotten coffee.

 _Sure_ the man was from Gotham. The dark clothes, the aura of weirdness the guy emitted, the silent danger, the constant “don’t talk to me” expression. That was definitely a gothamite, if Clark ever saw one.  
“Visiting Metropolis?”  
“Just passing by”  
“You’ve been here before?” Kent continued, pointing at the bag on the ground. He didn’t know why he was asking the guy questions, but _something_ on the man activated Clark’s natural curiosity “Looks like you’re going travelling”

Again, the stranger hesitated a little before answering. He looked at Clark’s face, his hair, the plaid suit, the silly blue cake. Then the man exhaled and, somehow, an almost unnoticeable smirk appeared.  
“I’m coming back actually. Been travelling for a long time. I’m probably a lot less gothamite now than I once was...” the man said.

‘ _Definitely not_ ’ Clark thought, but only answered “I don’t think that’s how it works. I’m not from Metropolis either…”  
“Yeah, I could tell. Southerner or midwesterner?” the man asked, slowly looking Clark up and down.  
Clark blinked in surprise - maybe his Smallville origins were written all over his face. “Kansas”  
“Huh… interesting”  
“Ever been there?”  
“Once. When I was still a kid. It’s beautiful”  
"I think it's the most beautiful place," Clark said, smirking slightly. “But I’m biased. Everything looks beautiful when you come back home after a long time”

The stranger blinked a few times and looked down at his own hands. He had this quiet, introverted expression as he watched the orange rays of sun on his fingers. They were rough, scarred, but long and well manicured. Clark couldn’t help but stare.

“It really does” he said, finally smiling a little. There was a nostalgic happiness in his eyes that captivated Kent. The man was very attractive when he had that kind look on his face. It didn’t last long, though. It was shaken off, and the impenetrable gaze returned.

The man got up and grabbed his backpack. Clark felt kinda anxious about it. He suddenly had this impulse of grabbing the stranger’s clothes, just so they could talk more. He had so many questions.  
Before the stranger walked away, however, he approached Kent and held out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, mr…"  
"Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet" The kryptonian answered shaking the unusually rough hand.  
"Editor?"  
"Journalist, actually'  
"...huh"  
"And you are…?"  
"Andrews. Frank Andrews"  
"Well, nice to meet you too, Frank Andrews from Gotham"

The man smirked a little to himself, put on dark sunglasses and left through the door.

'Frank Andrews' Clark thought again, finishing his coffee. 'What an unusual guy'.

*


	13. 24 Years Old - Gotham City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recuérdame (Arrullo) - Coco

The Wayne Manor had been taken over by beautiful plants, and Alfred Pennyworth was the one responsible for it. Not only in the garden, but also in the greenhouse and climbing every wall of the old mansion. Inside wasn’t different. There were big and small vases in almost every important room. Twice a week the 54 year old walked the whole place checking what needed to be watered, exactly by the time the sun was setting with an orange glow.

If Alfred was honest, flowers were just a silly way of making the corners of the house alive. The old Manor was big, empty and quiet. Too much for just one man.

Pennyworth brought his watering can outside. The day hadn’t been sunny at all, but somehow the beautiful sunset reached the Manor as if it passed through a filter. It had rained for hours and the tall grass shone with dew, all the way to the woods on the edge of the garden. Alfred sat on the kitchen door steps while the pot was being filled again. He breathed the clean humid air. It wouldn’t last, but he was glad he could enjoy it for a while.

“Alfred?” he heard being whispered to his right.

Pennyworth turned to where the voice came from, but couldn’t actually see the person that stood there. He didn’t realize he had been staring at the glass greenhouse, leaving stains in his sight.  
“Paul, is that you?” he asked, whilst rubbing his eyes. Paul had been helping him repaint the corridor, but it was a little too late for his neighbour to still be there.

When he didn’t receive an answer right away, Alfred felt uneasy. He got up and turned to the strange man, lowering his hands. He could see his black clad figure, his dark wet hair, but the face wasn’t familiar at all. The young man stared at him in awe, with furrowed brows and sad shining eyes.  
“Who are you?”

The stranger swallowed and tensed at the question. Speaking seemed to hurt him, but the he said again, even lower than before “... Alfred”

The whole thing was confusing the old butler. Why wasn’t this man answering him? He looked like someone who needed help, but was he hurt? Did h…

Alfred’s heart seemed to stop suddenly, and the whole world went silent.  
He didn’t mean to let his hopes up, but couldn’t help it. You see, the way the sun hit that dark hair was too familiar. And the eyes, those big blue eyes, striking enough to be unforgettable.

“Bruce?” Alfred asked. He almost expected a denial, an accusation that his sanity was gone.

But the tears that started rolling down the young man’s face were enough confirmation. Suddenly, Alfred was running as fast as he could with shaky legs. How could the young man be so close and so far away at the same time? Alfred grabbed the kid in front of him, pulling him closer too quickly. His hand brought Bruce’s head to his shoulder. Not a second later, strong arms wrapped around Alfred, clutching desperately. He didn’t realize the 24 year old had been shaking too.

He was scared. Scared that Alfred would never want to talk to him, to see his face. He was scared he wouldn’t be accepted back.

“My boy…” Pennyworth whispered, realizing how long he had been waiting to say those words again. There were days he thought he never would.  
“I’m sorry, Alfred” Bruce said shakily, sinking his red face on the butler’s shoulder. He had forgotten how it felt to have that.  
“I’m sorry, my boy”

Bruce wondered if it really was true. He wondered if he hadn’t hit his head in one of his stupid stunts and it was all some hallucination. But the cold sunset, the smell of green that marked Wayne Manor and the presence of the only other man Bruce would call father - he knew it was true. He had reached the end. Finally, he was done travelling.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


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